


His Smile Shines Brighter From A Clean-Shaven Face

by tridecaphilia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tridecaphilia/pseuds/tridecaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek comes back clean-shaven, but it doesn't last long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Smile Shines Brighter From A Clean-Shaven Face

**Author's Note:**

> During the mid-season-3 hiatus a video on how to shave with a straight razor crossed my dash. This was the result. Originally posted to Tumblr.

Derek comes back clean-shaven, but it doesn’t last long.

When Stiles sees Derek back for the first time, with his skin smooth and the stubble finally gone, he can hardly believe it. He laughs, makes a crack about Derek not looking nearly tortured enough without the stubble.

Derek actually blushes—visible now without the beard in the way—and shrugs. “It was time for a change.”

And it seems, for a while, like Derek actually cleared his head of the guilt and the beard went with it. Derek smiles more often. He actually laughs.

But as Stiles notices before anyone else (not that he’s  _looking,_  okay, it’s just obvious), the beard is slowly coming back.

They’re having ice cream ( _ice cream,_  Jesus Christ, is this even the same person who left Beacon Hills a month ago?) when Stiles mentions it.

"Hey, you know that clean-shaven look you were rocking doesn’t just stay that way," he comments.

Derek raises his eyebrows, trying to look intimidating, but it just doesn’t work when he has to look away to lick away a drip of his Rocky Road before it melts onto his fingers. Stiles tries not to snicker. The new Derek is a strange creature, like a unicorn, and Stiles isn’t convinced he won’t startle and hide just as quickly as one. So instead he grins, friendly and open or as much as he ever is.

"Seriously, not that I don’t love the stubble, but you look better shaven."

Derek shrugs and mutters something.

"Sorry, what?"

Derek carefully looks anywhere but at Stiles and says softly but clearly, “I can’t use anything but an electric razor. I cut myself.”

Stiles’ eyebrows could not go any higher without disappearing into his hairline. “Seriously?”

Derek nods stiffly.

Stiles grins.

And that’s how he winds up sitting Derek down on a chair in his kitchen, preparing to shave the werewolf with a straight razor.

"You sure you know how to do this?"

Stiles has never seen Derek so nervous. Then again, he’s never seen Derek willingly let someone hold a sharp object to his throat, so that probably has something to do with it.

"No sweat. I did this for my dad for a while." He doesn’t mention that he did it after his mom died, when his dad was so listless he could barely get out of bed; doesn’t mention that he learned because his mom used to do it, watched videos online and read how-tos and did it to cheer his dad up; doesn’t mention that he still does it on the anniversary of his mom’s death, to keep his dad going and remind him he’s not alone. "Trust me, I know what I’m doing."

First is moisture, and then a hot towel, all to relax the hairs, and Derek too for that matter. He can  _see_  tension go out of Derek even just from this, the strain that had started to build back up when he came back dissolving. The lather, next, brushed over in a thin layer over the stubble.

A thin line of tension runs through Derek again when Stiles opens the straight razor, and without really thinking about it Stiles finds himself running his free hand over Derek’s shoulder to dissolve the tension again. Derek looks up at him, trusting, and Stiles smiles. Slowly, he moves his hand from Derek’s shoulder to his face, just above the top of the stubble, and stretches the skin so he can get the razor close.

Stiles has never done this for anyone but his dad, and it’s markedly different with Derek. His dad was used to this, for one thing, and Derek is surprised by every touch of steel on his face, every touch from Stiles’ hand to keep the skin stretched. And Stiles is surprised, when he leans in to see the direction of the hair so he can shave it closer, at the intensity in Derek’s eyes on him, at the way his own heart beats faster.

When Stiles shifts around behind Derek to get the best angle for a particular area, Derek reaches up and puts one hand on Stiles’ arm. It’s not a restraining gesture—it feels, if anything, like Derek is reassuring himself. The tension has almost totally dissolved from Derek’s body, and as Stiles shaves in short strokes, keeping with the grain of the stubble, he finds his own mind clearing—a rarity in his mind. He comes back around and kneels in front of Derek, tipping his head back to get the last patch of hair over his Adam’s apple, and as he puts the razor down his soft almost-whisper of “All done” is so loud they both jump.

Derek blinks, eyes refocusing on Stiles. Stiles is suddenly uncomfortably aware that he’s kneeling between Derek’s legs. Derek smiles, that new happier smile (and it does look better in a clean-shaven face) and stands and helps Stiles to his feet.

Stiles smiles back, more timid, and takes the towel off Derek’s shoulders and sets it down with the shaving supplies. Derek’s hand settles on his shoulder, and he nearly jumps.

"Thanks," Derek says softly.

"Anytime."


End file.
